The Drinking Game
by howimetneilpatrickharris
Summary: Barney witnesses a conversation that lacks any concept of the English language, and is inspired to play a drinking game with his financée. Set post The Final Page, Swarkles, One-shot.


**I saw a post on tumblr that just listed like thirty different ways to say bro, and this happened.**

**Set post The Final Page.**

Following their engagement, Robin and Barney were falling quickly in to what they would endlessly deny was couples' coma. It was Friday night, and they were tucked up in bed, watching Titanic. Barney sniggered to himself, earning a suspicious glance from Robin.

"What's so funny?"

"At least something's going down tonight. Just a shame it's a boat. WHAT. UP?" He extended his hand for a high five.

"If you think you're getting a high five for a joke that lame then you're as dumb as the guys that insisted that boat was unsinkable." She gestured mockingly at the screen.

"I'm not putting my hand down until it slaps yours." He said simply, a quick upward glance for emphasis. Robin shrugged.

"It'll be there forever then." Robin turned on her side to get out of the bed, as Barney's hand plummeted downwards towards Robin's ass. "Dude! Ow!"

"Close enough." He smirked. "Where are you going?" He questioned, a childish tone to his voice.

"To get ice cream." She informed him, shrugging as she exited the room. As she closed the freezer door, out of the corner of her eye she noticed Barney walking into the kitchen.

"Put the ice cream down we're playing a drinking game." He announced rapidly, taking two bottles of vodka out of the refrigerator.

"No we're not." She insisted, pulling open a draw.

"Yes we are. Come on, Scherbatsky. We don't have to get boring because we're engaged." She was about to scold him, until she looked up and saw his puppy-dog eyes…and then looked down and saw his bare chest. She rolled her eyes, a sigh escaping.

"Fine." She relented, putting the ice cream back in the freezer and making her way back to the bedroom, Barney close behind her. They sat back down on the bed, Titanic still playing in the background, as Robin turned expectantly to Barney.

"If you get too drunk, you're sleeping on the couch."

"I think we both know that I can handle my drink." He raised his eyebrows at her lack of faith.

"Okay, Stinson. We'll see. Anyway, rules?" She questioned.

"History lesson."

"No. Just rules, please."

"Robin. Just, okay?" Robin rolled her eyes and leant back against the headboard. "History. Lesson." He repeated, an eyebrow raised. "And by history, I mean overheard in the drug store earlier." Robin tried and failed to suppress a giggle as Barney smirked. "So there's a guy eyeing up the Doritos like he wants to hook up with them, and then another guy walks in. Both drastically underdressed to be out in public, in my opinion, but I digress."

"Barney." She scolded, her impatience evident in her tone.

"Patience, Scherbatsky. So they know each other, and guy two notices guy one, and a five word conversation ensues. 'Hey, Bro'', 'Bro!', 'Broski!', 'Brosicle!'. Fist bump. That was it." Barney's eyes were wild as he looked to Robin.

"Am I missing something?"

"The rules of the game are simple: every time one of us is able to fit the word 'bro' into conversation, we drink."

"You told me that pile of crap for _one_ rule."

"Robin!" He whined, expecting a better reception.

"Okay, okay. So when do we start?" She asked, unscrewing the cap on one of the vodka bottles and handing it to Barney.

"Now."

"Man, we should've got some brotato chips." Robin started, giggling before she'd finished her sentence. Barney laughed, extending his arm for a high five.

"Nice!" They both took a swig, as Barney shifted on the bed. The channel on the TV changed, making them both jump. "Oh, God." Barney said.

"What's the matter with you?" Robin questioned.

"I _hate_ Napoleon Bronaparte." He clarified, giggling as he brought the neck of the bottle to his lips.

"Yeah, he's almost as bad as Brosef Stalin."

"Absolutely. I much prefer Abroham Lincoln… Teddy Brosevelt… BROBAMA!" Barney's eyes widened in genuine surprise at his ability to make _awful_ puns. The pair of them cheered, before taking their bottles and downing five mouthfuls. Robin hissed as the colourless liquid hit the back of her throat, but her eyes glimmered as another pun came to her.

"You know, I appreciate the work of Gods perhaps more than that of Presidents." She stated. Barney closed his eyes and licked his lips, sniggering in anticipation.

"And which Gods would that be, Scherbatsky?" He asked, his eyes opening once more as he readjusted the elasticated waist of his sweats.

"Broseiden… God of the brocean." The pair collapsed in laughter before taking another two mouthfuls.

* * *

><p>"Man, I feel s'weak." Barney complained, ninety minutes later. There had been a limited number of puns, but the third of a bottle they'd already taken down was starting to take effect.<p>

"Maybe you need a brotein shake." Robin offered, nonchalantly, forcing the two of them to take down another mouthful. Barney sloppily gave her a high five.

"Let's listen to some *hic* music." Barney slurred, frowning as he reached over to grab his phone. Robin looked to him with concern. He seemed twice as drunk as she was. She glanced at his bottle, realising he'd been talking bigger gulps than she had, but she chose to ignore it.

"What are you putting on?" She asked. Barney stayed silent - whether he chose to or physically couldn't form a sentence was a mystery - until a few familiar notes echoed through the bedroom.

"BROHEMIAN RHAPSODY!" She announced, as Barney started giggling again.

"Y'know who's in th'song?" Barney smirked. "Gallilebro." Two more shots. Barney held up a finger, eyes half closed as the slowed impulse tried to let him speak again. "Th'only man…" He held a closed fist in front of his mouth as his chest contracted, but he held it down. "th'could ever write a better song… Brozart". The bottle was to his mouth before he'd even finished his sentence, and he drained the whole thing. Robin's concerned facial expression returned instantly. His degree of inebriation caused her to sober up instantly. He reached her for her bottle, but she grabbed his hand to stop him.

"No, Barney." She insisted, using her free hand to pause the music.

"Robin!" He whined, reaching over her to grab his phone. When he realised he couldn't reach, he settled for collapsing in Robin's lap. She glanced at the clock, reading 12:30, and made an executive decision that the two of them should call it a night. She considered moving him to the couch to see through her promise, but when she considered his weight - and how cute he looked - she decided against it.

* * *

><p>When Robin woke up, Barney was lying awake on his side, perfectly still and eyes heavy.<p>

"Good morning, bro." Robin smirked, reaching out to gently slap his cheek. He groaned.

"Don't move the bed." He pleaded, but Robin was already half way to sitting up.

"Why?" She asked, but by the time she finished, Barney was already half way out of the door, the subsequent noises making the answer all too obvious. When he was done, he returned to the bedroom, sliding straight back under the covers.

"You look like crap, you know." Robin laughed, running her fingers through his hair.

"Yeah, I know. I am _so _hungover." He closed his eyes.

"Feel better now you threw up the entire bottle of vodka you consumed neat last night?" He nodded and suppressed a laugh, afraid of what would happen if he moved his stomach too much.

"Mhm."

"Good." She sighed, turning over and letting Barney cuddle up behind her. "What do you want to do today?" She asked, locking her fingers into his. He shrugged. Her eyes widened as she pressed back against him. "You don't know?" He laughed knowingly, shaking his head and burying his face in her neck. "Well, it feels to me like you've just had a pretty good idea… Bro."


End file.
